Freedom of the Pearl
by Anneklok
Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow once said that the Black Pearl meant freedom. After many years Will joins him on the Pearl and falls captive to that same freedom Sparrow craves. w/j
1. Default Chapter

The sun beat down on the shimmering blue waters of the Caribbean. The high seas, a place for freedom ... of all kinds. The waters went on for miles in all directions without any land in sight by the naked eye. A lone ship, a mighty vessel, cut through the waves, powered by a strong wind blowing against majestic black sails. The ship sailed under secrecy showing only its black sails which may as well have been a warning if not a clue as they were not accompanied by any other marker. The skies were blue and clear with only a few puffy white masses of clouds streaking through the sky on that same stream of wind that pushed the sea vessel along on the tip of it's invisible godlike finger. Although far removed from the dark spirits that once manned her, the Black Pearl contrasted sharply in all aspects to the bright blue surrounding it above and below.

In the crows nest, the Captain with looking glass extended to it's full length took in the surroundings squinting against the lens. As he had been for the past two days he stood at midday, in the best light, hoping for a glimpse of gray and black rock or white sandy beach. A palm tree or even a dock with brick, stone, clay and wood buildings behind it would have been a relief. Instead of relief he found water in deep shades of blue and green with no white surf waves and no more evidence of shore in the forms of vegetation or other odds and ends. 

He looked down from his perch surveying the deck of the ship watching the crew members as they strode along the planks of wood nailed tightly together, the heels of their boots clacking against it. They looked humorous from above as if moving in a fashion different from normal now as seen from a different perspective than eye level. The one idle figure on the ship stopped the Captain's glance. His eyes weighed in on the back of the sailor, the pirate, as it were. The lean frame contained in a slightly oversized white shirt the fluffy sleeves cut and rolled up to the biceps on his tan arms. His pants were charcoal bordering on weathered gray from all the sunlight and the bleaching effect of the sea water. The figure rested on his hands pressed against the waist high solid rail of the ship leaning forward. His sight would appear to be trained in looking past the bow where he stood taking in the long expanse of sea ahead. He shifted from one leg to the other causing the faded grey tattered pants he wore to shiver in the breeze.

Captain Jack Sparrow relieved a foot length of chain from the floor of the crows nest, raising his eyebrow and smirking to himself looping it around the rigging that led down from the top of the mast to the deck tied securely. He gripped opposite ends of the chain firm in both hands and took two quick steps high into the air laying both feet on the rail of the basket. Abruptly he stepped forward again, pulling his legs up so he would drop. Skimming down the thick rope he lowered his legs easily hitting the deck on both feet solid. He dropped the chain and made haste with his feet for a quick approach just as the idle pirate turned from the nose of the bow. The captain stopped abruptly jerking his body setting in motion a swish of thick noisey fabric, buttons and beads, and every other adorning trinket, coming face to face with the other man. The captain unabashedly with a stern face let his needing hands move ahead of him allowing them to betray their rough appearance. Delicately weighted fingers touched hips opposite his own softly and more importantly with subtle with subtle grace keeping the appearance of such an action concealed.

"All hands are needed on deck Mr. Turner," the voice of Captain Jack Sparrow came across as clear and concise as would any other words spoken by him, "and none are to be idle. Devils play things they may be and we certainly can't have that,"

Brown eyes locked with brown eyes and the other gentleman let a small smile play upon his lips as his cheeks flushed. A toothy smile of gold met his with no reason to be as coy, without the refinement to even pretend it, already finding trial in a subtle touch. Will Turner eased back from the soft touch of Jack Sparrow trying to refrain from a retort, startled by the daytime dialogue, as well as the contact he hadn't yet prepared for. 

"All hands on deck?" Will looked over Jack's shoulder and past the enormous weather beaten leather hat perched on his head noting the crew, those still on the deck and not below, only feigning interest if they were at work at all, "Aye, then I shall join them pretending as though they are obedient,"

"I meant to have you engage in something other than staring out -"

"Aye. Jack you really must learn to specify," Will said with a wry smile.

"About as much as you need to learn to take" Jack looked into his eyes feeling the rough fingertips of a blacksmiths hands covering his wrists and winked pausing before he finished, "orders,"

Will took a step back drawing his body away from Sparrow's hands. He raised an eyebrow in question silently asking Jack into a game, one they often played. He now only belonged in the grasp of Jack's covetous eyes and with one step taken to the side gracefully crossing his feet one over the other he walked around the captain. Jack turned finding himself face to face with the younger man although now the roles reversed. Will's shoulder-length brown hair made wild by the sea breeze blew back when he tugged the small leather cord that held it from behind, offering a better view of his smooth face. Jack's lips parted and pressed together in a gesture revealing his awe at the sight. Will twirled the cord deliberate with each turn he made around his fingers finally wrapping the entirety around his pointer. He lowered his gaze to the cord for a moment and lifted his brown eyes back to Jack, speaking more with his movements than words would ever allow from either. 

"I mean it. You're more dull and pathetic than any of your sword blades. Come off it. I say there's nothing worth sulking about here on the Pearl. Savvy,"

Jack folded his arms and watched Will turn and stroll along the deck. Without so much as a look back Will pulled open both double doors leading to the dining area. He stepped inside disappearing from view into the darkness the bright sun above deck couldn't shine into. He shoved the heavy wood doors shut behind him, the noise of their stop against the wood frame sounding with a loud crack. Jack mused over just what conclusions he should draw from the display. Folding his hands fingertips pointed up at his chin he marched forward in silence across the deck. Ascending four small steps he turned to Gibbs to relieve him of the wheel.

"He's not been the same, that one," Gibbs said matter-of-factly nodding toward the doors to the dining room, eyeing Sparrow for a reaction as he reached for the leather flask tied around his own neck, "Not since Miss Swann,"

"His spirits will improve once we reach -"

"Perhaps, the young Turner would do best alone away from prying words and deed?"

Jack glared keeping his eyes fixed on the sea ahead, gently turning the wheel easing it first to the left and then the right, gripping each rung tightly. Gibbs took the generous out given to him and uncorked the flask sipping before turning from the captain taking his leave letting Jack return to his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bonny lass," Jack Sparrow pronounced each syllable from each word perfectly and he meant not to waste his breath by the volume and tone of his voice.

Will turned from the rigging, looping the end of the rope he held into a knot around the taught measure wrapped tight around a peg. He pulled the metal capped end through expertly making sure the tie would hold around the anvil shaped peg and that the sail would not suddenly be ripped loose by fierce wind. The sun had begun to set and more shadows covered Will's grave face. Jack cocked his head to the side, arms folded, ready for another verbal disagreement, ready for another view of Will's back if he should walk away angrily once more.

"What's that?" Turner asked chancing to take Jack for a fool who could have not known better than to think Will's hearing horrible.

"Don't mock the deaf. You heard me. Where is she? What 'appened?"

"It's none of your concern," Turner boldly informed looking away from Jack to the boards composing the deck beneath his feet.

"Seemed quite my concern when you asked my help a long time ago. Told me to keep her safe for you and I did,"

"And it's over. It's past. It's all in the past," Will folded his arms across his chest not unlike the way Jack had folded his own, but with the air of uncertainty and fear that Jack most certainly did not possess.

"That what became of she and you?" Jack asked never one to mince words and always one to find out the truth even if it meant ripping a secret from a grown man's well guarded heart.

Will stopped blinking his brow furrowing as he tried to collect the correct words to speak with. 

"No," came his hasty retort spat from his bitter lips and hurt eyes as his arms dropped, both hands open.

Jack took in a deep long breath and tilted his head back expecting a falsehood to be revealed and expecting Will to explain the truth. Instead Will's lax arms swayed as his legs moved him forward. Turner passed Jack Sparrow all too eagerly letting his right shoulder brush negligently into Jack's own right shoulder. Jack ground his teeth frustrated with the theatrics and the dramatics, frustrated with the fact that he'd counted on Will's honesty, the blind faith completely pure and naïve honesty, characteristic of his friend to spit the secret forth. They'd had short and dishonest, dare say it disastrous beginnings in going from acquaintance and convenient knowledge of each other to the uneasy friendship they now shared. Saving each other and rescuing each other entitled them to some measure of disclosure of affairs, especially when Jack's exterior had been breached and his concern involved. It bothered Jack to no end that now after years of silence or few words aside from happy tidings and greetings Will stood sober and resolute in remaining in silence.

"I'm not set to ridicule you!" Jack shouted after Will as the other man distanced himself walking to the stern of the ship.

Jack took in another deep breath and let out a sigh. He meant to turn this around and to make it playful, but again Will had done it. He'd pulled the trick where everything became serious and life or death. How could it really be so life or death? Will hadn't died and until that time as he went to the beyond he'd still have a chance at anything. Jack sucked in his cheeks and his lips and threw down his hands clenching fists at his sides. Irreverently stomping his thick boots onto the deck he charged quickly after will a fist raising to chest level and his index finger pointed and ready. His jaw set forward and one of his eyes squinted angrily he stopped behind Will Turner and muttered.

"You know I ain't come to do you harm. You know why I'm 'ere. Twenty days ago you turned up drifting on some small dilapidated sailboat 'avin been out for days or weeks or worse. You ain't said one word about heading back to Port Royal. You ain't said not about your beloved. You ain't even said one word about the law you try to uphold nor have you said a bloody thing really at all! And it's not like you –"

"No, Jack," Will turned completely his face twisted with disgust, "It's not like you! You're the one that won't shut up. I never had much to say at all,"

Jack's eyes snapped open and before he could shoot back, before he could throw the first punch, before he could even respond Will pushed past. He heard the boots of Will Turner clacking violently in a fast gate, striding away from the stern and away from Jack and away from the pain of giving answers. Jaw dropped and scowling from an aroused temper Jack stepped forward slamming both palms flat on the wooden rail gripping the wet smooth finish, digging his grimy black rimmed nails in as abuse. 

Quick heart beats and bursts of anger fueled adrenaline caught him unaware and he leaned against the railing staring down into the dark seas. The sun had now almost gone and just a sliver of the ball of fire on the horizon remained. The reassuring weight of his saber and the ever-present bulk of his loaded pistol comforted him very little. The kind of enemy that could into him this deeply couldn't be vanquished and pursued by those types of weapons. He couldn't watch another good man fall and in spite of all the theatrics and drama and games and running from speech, Turner still made a good man. He could still be counted as trusted, tried and loyal until the very end. If Captain Jack Sparrow wanted to stop the sort of attack he'd just marched himself into he'd have to find a way to stop the source and it wouldn't be a confrontation so pretentious and discourteous. 


End file.
